By the Creek
by Itaweasel-hime
Summary: RivaMika. In a fleeting moment of weakness, Mikasa wished she could sink fully into the frigid, rolling stream, to be dragged over rocks and fallen brush, until like the polished stones of the creek's bed, she was completely worn away.


An: I have decided to post more RivaMika here. If so desired, I will continue to post my SnK fics on , as well as on my tumblr. Let me know what you guys want.

...

Mikasa stood silently in the icy creek, her boots up on the grassy bank, and her white trousers hiked halfway up her calves. The stones were smooth beneath the calloused bottoms of her feet, the chilled water slowly gurgling past her, the cold piercing her skin painfully as it flowed.

Yet, she felt strangely numb. In a fleeting moment of weakness, Mikasa wished she could sink fully into the frigid, rolling stream, to be dragged over rocks and fallen brush, until like the polished stones of the creek's bed, she was completely worn away. She wanted to be sanded down, until there was nothing left but smooth bone and the tranquil drifting of the bitter, freezing water.

She sank to her knees, the icy stream lapping at her thighs and swirling around her. She looked up at the trees overhead, their leaves faded from the rich, vibrant oranges and burnt reds, the naked, skeleton-like branches stretching overhead to claw at the clear sky.

She felt hollow, just like the cloudless, crisp blue above her, and even if her head was well above the surface, she was wordlessly drowning. The aching emptiness burned in her chest and she struggled with herself, trying to fight the tears that now collected in her dark eyes. They spilled over her chilled, reddened cheeks, scorching their way down her face.

It had all been a mistake. She had been stupid, and now she was being punished for it.

The night the Scouting Legion's name had finally been cleared, she had slept with Corporal Levi. It had been impulsive, when he had quietly torn her away from their celebrating companions, and she could not resist him. His hands had felt too hot on her bare flesh, his lips too violent against her throat. He had devoured her whole, his teeth viciously perforating the skin of her neck in his attempt to fully gorge himself.

They returned to the camp in silence.

Seven weeks passed without any real communication between them, when Mikasa realized-tragically, miraculously-that she was pregnant. A contradicting mixture of horror and joy churned in her belly; she was going to be a mother. She had always dreamed of this, though perhaps under different circumstances, and despite her panic, Mikasa had known she had to tell Levi. Eventually.

Then, a month later, the accident happened. Their squad encountered a small group of six-meter titans, and while saving Sasha from certain death, a large hand had snatched her up and _squeezed. _Her ribs snapped in the titan's fist, blood dribbled down her chin and she coughed, wrestling the clenched fingers.

She managed to live. But her child did not. When she woke in the infirmary, her chest tightly wrapped and her wounds tended to, she knew she had miscarried. Logically, she was in no position to become a parent. She had no business, as a soldier on active duty, being a mother. Yet, she was irrationally swept away with grief, a gaping emptiness settling into her limbs as she mourned.

Mikasa lowered her hands into the coursing creek, the cold, like needles, puncturing her fingers and palms. Maybe she would just lay there forever, the brook sloshing around her until she was swallowed.

There was a brittle crinkling of brown, papery leaves as someone approached, but she did not move, staring blankly into the glassy, bubbling water. She didn't hear them move any further than the top of the bank, before they were calling out to her in a low murmur.

"Ackerman, what are you doing down there?"

Mikasa wrapped her arms around herself, staving off the sudden cold that gripped her heart. She was not ready to face Levi; bile rose to her throat, and she swallowed. She didn't want him to know anything about what had happened, was certain that he _shouldn't _know.

When she didn't reply, he came closer, wading into the creek. He walked about to stand before her, and she refused to look him in the eye, instead carefully studying his boots. The leather was old and soft after years of use, and hours spent buffing and polishing them could not disguise this. He was very much like his boots-exhausted, yet still plowing forward, despite being in danger of crumbling-and she could see it daily in the strain of his face. He hid it well enough, but she was perceptive.

"I'm talking to you, Ackerman."

She had no choice but to shift her gaze upwards. Levi's eyes were shadowed and tired, and for a moment his age showed. His expression softened slightly, and she wiped her face. She had no doubt he could tell she had been crying, especially when he lowered his hand to help her up.

His eyes narrowed when she took it, his tone scolding as he muttered, "You're freezing. Are you trying to make yourself sick?"

She let herself be yanked upward, her limbs flaccid as he pulled her against him. She could feel the familiar warmth of his muscles even through his thick cloak, and she wished she could admit the truth to him.

"It doesn't matter either way," she whispered, her cheek resting on the crown of his head.

Much like the brook, his scent was subdued yet clean, and she reveled in the unexpected physical contact. His hair was silky, and Mikasa was tempted to bury her face into those dark locks, to sink into him entirely. Their child would have had the prettiest, black hair-and with this new, torturous thought, her sorrow renewed itself, seizing her firmly.

Sharp sobs wracked her shivering form, fresh, scalding tears trickling down her stinging face. His breath thawed the sensitive flesh of her throat though; his presence, to her surprise, a soothing balm to her festering injuries. Levi possessed a calmness that she found comforting, and as she gripped him, he embraced her. She could feel the tension in his shoulders, the discomfort in his chest, but she selfishly absorbed his heat, letting him console her.

"Mikasa," he faintly exhaled, his voice a hushed wind that gently caressed her skin and short tresses. "What is this about?"

She had not heard him use her given name since that fateful night, when he had sighed it into the shell of her ear like a repetitive, breathless song. Mikasa then tore herself away from his too-pleasant hold, stumbling up the bank in an attempt to escape him. Her fingers ached, stiff from the cold as she clutched dewy blades of grass, crawling away from him, and whatever desire still haunted her.

He followed her with steady strides, not allowing her to flee.

"This has to do with the night the Scouting Legion's name was cleared."

His frankness never failed him.

"It doesn't matter," she repeated, the resolve in her tone weak.

"Clearly, it does."

He was kneeling next to her then, gripping her chin to turn her gaze toward him. What little strength she had left dissolved in the sharpness of his regard, and she pulled herself closer to him, her hands fisting the woolen cloak he wore. The empty void of her chest, dark and expanding, ached painfully as she wept.

Numb, stiff fingers sought the harsh and unforgiving contours of his face, and she nodded fervently in agreement, her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth gnawing at her lower lip abusively. He was right, just as he always was. It _did_ matter.

"You regret it," he muttered, the narrow shape of his nose sliding over the span of her forehead, splitting her bangs. His lips hovered over her skin, parted slightly so that she could feel him exhale, his warm breath velvety and thick against her chilled face.

Mikasa stumbled over every word. She didn't have the energy to fight him. "Levi, after...that night_, _I was pregnant."

Everything stilled, even the brisk, autumn breeze. The gurgling brook was all she could hear, and Mikasa listened as it carried on, never faltering. In contrast, her heart stuttered, pounding as she waited for him to respond. His hands fell away from her, and she felt deadened once more. She curled in on herself, regretting the decision to tell him as soon as she had made it. The wind picked up again, brutally slicing through her, and she welcomed the sensation.

"Was?" he finally uttered back.

He was angry, and Mikasa knew he had every right to be. Levi surely knew what she meant, but she still clarified for him.

"I lost it," her voice cracked, sounding as broken as she felt.

He remained speechless. At first, Mikasa assumed he was too shocked to say a thing, but when she briefly glanced up at him, she could see this was not the case. His jaw was set, teeth clenched tightly as he tried not to lash out at her. She deserved this, Mikasa had to remind herself.

His tone was low and dark, when he spoke again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

It was late afternoon, and already the sun was low in the sky, somewhere behind the barren woods. The entire scene was diluted in a wash of grey light, and the temperature steadily started to drop. She could feel the oncoming frost seeping into her very bones, threatening only to get colder.

Mikasa trembled in her wet uniform, quietly getting to her feet.

She was honest in her response. "I was afraid to."

"You were afraid to," he repeated with a snarl, his lips twisted in displeasure.

Pacing the grassy bank with heavy steps, he gave her no chance to further explain herself, immediately launching into a verbal attack.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Ackerman?" he snapped. The fact he returned to using her family name did not go unnoticed. "You do realize, of course, that if you had chalked up the courage to talk to me, you'd still be pregnant right now-and _obviously_, that's something you wanted."

She sucked in sharply, a strangled sound coming from deep in her throat. "Levi-"

His head whipped around violently, his hair lashing at his face as he turned to scowl at her.

"I'm not done," he hissed. "If you had told me, I'd have taken you off active duty. You would never have gotten hurt."

"Sir," she tried again, her voice shaking. "Sasha would have died-"

"Shut up, Ackerman," Levi interrupted, glaring at her. "You risked more than just your own life, engaging those titans. You shouldn't have been anywhere near that sort of danger."

His chest was heaving, and Mikasa was certain she had never seen him so enraged. After having lost so many comrades to the gaping grins of titans, and having watched death being dealt daily in the capitol's underground, he valued life above all else. And she had done nothing but waste an innocent one.

_No_, Mikasa realized with a stuttering, agonized gasp. She had done more than just waste an innocent life. She had killed that child-her own child. She was a murderer. She may have killed that kidnapper when she was younger, but that was nothing, compared to what she was guilty of now.

She felt dizzy, her lips trembling and her chest burning as she tried to breathe. Mikasa wondered if he would have even stopped her, if she threw herself into that stream to be swept away. She would have collapsed, if he had not stepped forward to catch her. His grip was painfully tight on her wrist, searing her skin and branding purple, blotchy bruises where it was once pale white.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He made no response as she repeated her apology over and over, her voice growing haggard as rough sobs escaped her chapped lips. She wasn't even sure who she was really apologizing _to, _whether it was Levi, or the child she had lost. His shoulders never lost their tension, the muscles taut with his fury, but he let her beg forgiveness, long after her salty tears had ebbed, and her cries had faded to faint hiccups.

He never forgave her, instead announcing in a flat tone, "We're going back."

Limp, her mind a murky slew of regrets and stinging wounds impossible to heal, she allowed him to drag her away; she had no choice. Mikasa weakly gave one last look to the stripped trees as Levi forcefully led her away, sympathizing with their vulnerable, exposed chests.


End file.
